


Relics and Remnants

by butchlesbianartemis



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Canon ghost lore does not apply here, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hamid and Zolf Deal With Their Emotions, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Season 4 Spoilers, implied PTSD, this one hurt to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22344031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butchlesbianartemis/pseuds/butchlesbianartemis
Summary: It’s hard, settling back into normalcy, when one has been on the road fighting for their life for so long. Or at least, for what feels like a long time. Saving the world is all fine and dandy, when that’s all you’re doing, day in day out. But when the world is finally, truly safe, and you have to return to a life you thought you left behind, when you’ve grown out of that life, then what?
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan & Sasha Racket, Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Zolf Smith, Implied Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Zolf Smith, Sasha Racket & Zolf Smith
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Relics and Remnants

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to the Cowards for making me want to actually write things.   
> Also fair warning this is the first time I've written fic, so I'm a little bit rusty.   
> Alternative title: How Sad Can One Person Get Over Sasha Rackett  
> Big thanks to Zeph for helping me edit this

It’s hard, settling back into normalcy, when one has been on the road fighting for their life for so long. Or at least, for what feels like a long time. Saving the world is all fine and dandy, when that’s all you’re doing, day in day out. But when the world is finally, truly safe, and you have to return to a life you thought you left behind, when you’ve grown out of that life, then what? 

That is what Hamid struggles with the most, now that the dust has cleared and everything is back to how it should be. 

He spends a lot of time between his new home and visiting his family, both feeling safe within the familiarity and feeling like they are his only tie to who he once was. He tries to push that feeling away. It doesn’t always work.

It helps to have the others around, to have people around him who understand, to have the family that grew and changed with him. Azu, who has grown and changed alongside him, and who understands how hard it is for him sometimes, tries her best to help however she can, though it’s hard to help someone through this sort of trouble when you yourself are going through it as well. Zolf is slightly more successful at times, though perhaps it is because he had seen Hamid before everything changed. Or perhaps it is because Zolf is the first one he sees when the dreams rip sleep away from him, and Zolf is the one who holds him close until he can sleep again.

It was Zolf’s idea to come here, to this museum of supposedly important history. He almost had to drag Hamid out, claiming that it would do him some good to get outside and ground himself in the world he had saved. Deep down he knows Zolf is right, but that doesn’t fully silence the lingering fear that something could go wrong again, could put their lives in danger once again. 

Once inside the museum, however, it’s easy for him to distract himself. He’s learned all of this history before, back before he was some hero, and he can pretend for just a moment that everything is truly back to normal. 

He avoids the sections dedicated to the “history” that he has had to live through, but as they weave through the exhibits and halls, a sign catches his eye. “Rome: Learn from the mistakes of the past.” It sends a shudder down his spine and his stomach turns. He is faintly aware of his hands shaking, of the ringing in his ears getting louder and louder, until it stops. His left hand now still, engulfed by another large hand, a warm thumb rubbing slow circles, and the ringing all at once drowned out by that soft, safe voice.

“Hamid? Are you alright?” There’s a pause, and then, “Oh… It’s alright, Hamid. We can go.” 

He wants to. So, so badly. He wants to run and never return, to block out those particular memories, to stop this guilt. It was his fault. Everyone always said it wasn’t on him, that it was nobody’s fault, but he knows deep down that he’s the reason they’re gone. 

But something deeper is tugging at him. Something else but the guilt is keeping him firmly in place, eyes fixed on the sign and the exhibit beyond it. Something is drawing him in, telling him he has to see. That there is something in there for him. Somehow, that doesn’t scare him as much as he knows it should. 

“I’m alright, Zolf. I.. I need to do this. I can’t run away from it forever..” He tries to sound brave, but it comes out shakier than he had wanted. He can’t explain it to Zolf without sounding paranoid or, worse, self-destructive, so he doesn’t try. Instead, he gives his hand a quick squeeze, and heads towards the exhibit, ignoring the ringing that slowly grows in his ears as he walks. He can hear Zolf start to call after him, sigh, then follow after him, but he doesn’t stop. 

Walking through the exhibit calms his nerves, he realizes. Most of the displays are replicas and pieced together mundane items, with more pottery and bricks than he would have expected. Nothing is reminiscent of the Rome he saw, and he can almost pretend that this is all safe. But as he drifts through the hall, that pull only grows stronger, almost desperate, and he soon realizes that it is leading him to the weaponry section. 

It’s a gut reaction when he casts detect magic, the spell cast before he can really think about it. Yet there is nothing out of the ordinary, only the standard security spells around the exhibit. No magic to explain this pull. He almost wishes he didn’t know that. But he continues nonetheless.

The weapons and armor on display are exactly what he expected. Spears, javelins, swords, shields, all mundane and normal. But the pull is at its strongest, twisting and pulsing within him as he observes the displays. He almost misses it, almost turns away to leave, when he spots a dagger by itself. The label goes on in detail about the peculiarity of the dagger, how it is proof of Roman intelligence and craftsmanship, that it was found in the ruins of a Roman farmhouse, but that isn’t what Hamid pays attention to. It's the dagger itself, its strange familiarity, and all at once it hits him. 

Hamid sinks to knees right there in front of the display.

Memories flash through his mind; Sasha sharpening her daggers whenever she had the chance, how she seemed to have an unlimited amount of them yet no one knew where they were coming from, the argument with Grizzop about the adamantine dagger, how her eyes lit up whenever she found a new one. Then memories of other times; of Sasha being brought back to life, of her confrontation with Barrett, of how happy she seemed talking to Bi Ming, of her nearly dying in Rome, of-

Of coming back without her. Without Grizzop. Without his friends. 

He can’t remember the last time he cried so hard. The sobs seem to tear from his lungs, his grief mercilessly clawing its way out from within him. He’s acutely aware that he’s in public, that people are probably staring at him, but he can’t find it within him to care. 

He hears Zolf call his name, hears his telltale footsteps rushing towards him, but before Zolf can even reach him, he feels something else. What feels like arms wrapping around him, squeezing him tight, as if trying to convey years of love through a quick embrace. He swears he hears a voice, a quiet one that he hasn’t heard in oh so long, but one he could never forget.

“You found me, Hamid. You can move on now, yeah? No more blaming yourself or anything. Take care of yourself, and him, alright?” With that, the pressure around him disappears, and he is alone with his tears, at least for a few moments before someone is kneeling beside him.

He feels Zolf’s arms surround him, can hear the concern in his voice when Zolf asks if he’s okay, and for a moment he is quiet, save for his sniffles. And then he answers, a sad smile crossing his face.

“We found her, Zolf. That’s one of her daggers… She was in Rome all along…She’s.. She’s really gone...”

\------------------------

Zolf will never tell Hamid what happened that day, if only because he knows it would sound crazy.

But he could have sworn he saw someone with Hamid as he cried, before Zolf had reached him. It seemed like a trick of the light, like a shadow that wasn’t quite right, and he almost wrote if off as such.

Until he sat next to Hamid. That was when he had felt it; something, or someone, wrapping around him and squeezing tight, like a hug from someone with too much to say and not enough time. Then a voice, seemingly coming from all around him, one that made his heart ache with sorrow.

“You did good, Boss. Like, really good. Now go, be happy, if not for yourself then for me. And take care of yourself, yeah?” There’s a quick squeeze on his shoulder, and then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Leaving him and Hamid, crying on the floor in each other’s arms.


End file.
